


The Prodigal Return

by aoifene



Series: Prodigal [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hd_worldcup, F/M, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoifene/pseuds/aoifene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Prodigal. Draco Malfoy has learned about choice, now Fate teaches him of consequence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prodigal Return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alaana_fair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaana_fair/gifts).



> This sequel was commissioned by the ever wonderful alaana_fair for livelongnmarry. This is horribly late and I thank her for her patience and generosity. I hope it’s worth the wait. :D

Bright light. Cold floor.  
  
“Did you think you could get away with it, Malfoy? You never were very bright.” A voice. Cold. Colder than the floor.  
  
Pain. Oh god, the pain.  
  
Not again, please…  
  
It isn’t my worst nightmare come to life. No, that would’ve had green eyes dimming and the echoes of fading footsteps ringing in my ears as I plead hoarsely for an innocence I’ve never had the right to claim.  
  
That would involve my secret being revealed out here in the open, wrenched away from where I’ve guarded it jealously, bitterly, fearfully between careful smiles and even more cautious words.  
  
It isn’t the worst, but it still bloody hurts.  
  
My vision starts to fade and blur around the edges but before unconsciousness claims me, a single thought makes it easier to succumb.  
  
At least, he is safe.  
  
At least, it’s me in a dungeon this time.  
  
At least, he still doesn’t know.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
We were happy. That, in and of itself, should have been a sign of warning. But I was too young, too high on the adrenalin of such a near miss and the rush of freedom. Too full of love in a way that had nothing to do with the shine of gold and the clinking of coins and everything to do with the warmth of his embrace and the unguarded light in his eyes.  
  
I was a fool.  
  
I was in love.  
  
I’ve found out that these two are very much one and the same.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
Three months ago Wizarding history was made with the Dark Lord’s fall. Predictably, Harry Potter was the one standing as the victor. Not so predictable was my form by his side. However, a Malfoy always makes his fate so perhaps it isn’t quite so farfetched after all. My wounds are all but mended. Potter is in fine form, too. Well, as much as he can be anyway with that ridiculously cow licked mop of his.  
  
“Your hair is atrocious. I am half convinced that the Dark Lord’s final curse was placed on that appalling mess! It’s obviously trying to strangle you with the haphazard rate it’s growing or at the very least kill you with embarrassment.”  
  
“Not everyone can have poncy hair like yours, Malfoy.”  
  
“You speak out of jealousy. It’s all right, I understand. And would you stop fidgeting! The Mud-Granger will be here soon and so will Weasel-y.”  
  
“Nice save.”  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why are you unbuttoning your shirt? Stop that at once! Are you trying to look homeless? Do you want them to think that I mistreat you?”  
  
“Malfoy, loosening two shirt buttons is not and has never been a universal sign of abuse. I am unbuttoning them because they are choking me. I think that gives you more grounds for your paranoia than anything else.”  
  
“I am not paranoid. I am merely making an astute observation, which by the way Malfoys are known for. Well, with the exception of Uncle Maximillian who… when he… Oh, who am I kidding? This is ridiculous.”  
  
“Judging from the stories I’ve heard about him, I’m sure it is. Go on then. What did Uncle Maximillian do this time?”  
  
“Leave it, Potter. What’s the use? I’m the last one left and, given the current situation, I doubt that’s ever going to change. I just-“  
  
“Need to tell me more about your fascinating uncle. Come on, you just got to the good part.”  
  
“No. I said, leave it. There’s no point in these quaint little family legacies except for the fact that they allow you to conveniently forget who I am and where I’ve come from. Tell me, Potter, is it easier to pretend with humorous little ditties filling your head? Is it easier to look at me and not see my father when you’re too busy laughing yourself sick over another one of my childhood inanities?”  
  
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Malfoy, or I swear to Merlin I will hex you to that chair.”  
  
“I’d like to see you try, Potter.”  
  
“Oh, gladly, because maybe then you’ll listen to me. First of all, I have never forgotten who you are. Ever. Not in that dungeon, not in that hall, and certainly not now when you’re two steps away from me. I’ve never mistaken you for Lucius either so don’t you start with that. And as for making it easier? We hated each other for six years and I just spent the last few months in your dungeon. I think the ship has sailed on that one and I seriously doubt childhood memories would bring it back.”  
  
“Let go of me!”  
  
“No! You need to understand this because your passive-aggressive bullshit is driving me mad. One minute you’re happy and the next you’re snapping at me like a deranged Hippogriff. I love you, in case you missed it. I have no delusions that this will be easy but trust me when I say this, Malfoy, it really is that simple.”  
  
“You are just so- I can’t believe you actually think- Ugh! You’re a sap, Potter.”  
  
“Well spotted, Malfoy. You love me anyway.”  
  
“Lies! Who told you this? I’ll have their hands ironed and their ears boxed! Oh, stop looking at me that I was only joking. And will you unbind me already?”  
  
“I don’t know. You have been naughty scaring me like that and you are quite pretty when you’re at my mercy.”  
  
“I knew you had a kink. I knew it.”  
  
“I view it as an unhealthy side effect of prolonged exposure to Slytherins, so really it’s all your fault.”  
  
“Don’t care, just come here or I swear I will- Mprgkle!“  
  
“You’ll what, Malfoy?”  
  
“Oh, just shut up and kiss me again.”  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
  
If only the rest of the day passed just like this I would have been content, but alas, we’d kept the world at bay long enough. Sooner or later we had to face it, and so as long as we did it together I was all right. Shaking like a bloody leaf and feeling as if I’m about to sick up my breakfast, but generally all right. A knock breaks through my scattered thoughts and even though I know the people behind it are no longer my enemy, my hands tighten into fists as I prepare to fight once again for my proper place.  
  
Potter tries to send me a reassuring smile but it falls short because he’s too busy fighting to contain his own anxious excitement. He hasn’t had a proper conversation with the two since the war ended, partly due to Healer’s orders but I know it’s mostly because of me. It is quite frankly one of the reasons why I pushed for this meeting. I don’t think I could handle any more guilt and besides, it’s better to get the stupid thing over with anyway.  
  
As soon as the door opens, Potter is immediately engulfed in what has got to be the most uncomfortable hug I’ve ever seen. His glasses are pushed up to his eyebrows, digging painfully into the skin there as his head is cradled against the Mudblood’s neck, her hair obscuring, and no doubt tickling, more than half his face. His left shoulder is looped under the press of the Weasel’s arm in a vice so tight I am afraid the oaf will leave bruises.  
  
They look ridiculous, undignified and… deliriously happy.  
  
A part of me thinks I should hate that. Be jealous of this bond like I was before. Be fearful of a relationship like theirs that has endured for years. But to my surprise, I find that I am not. In fact, a small smile makes it past my lips as I stand awkwardly over their equally uncomfortable position.  
  
Perhaps I really have grown up after all.  
  
A flash of green from the Mudblood’s scarf catches my eye and I am instantly reminded of my own friends, or the ones I used to have, and I can’t help the rush of bitter sadness that jolts through me.  
  
I look away.  
  
Perhaps not.  
  
I didn’t think I made a sound. In fact, I was very careful about that but Potter’s eyes snap up to meet mine just the same. His face, shining with relief and happiness a minute before falls slightly, and I wince inwardly at being the cause of it. I try to smile but he’s already opening his mouth to call me back and bring the other two’s attention to me. The Mudblood beats him to it.  
  
It’s only a sob but it echoes through the room and once she gets going, the ginger oaf follows after and before I know it, he’s surrounded not only by a squish of Gryffindor love but a mess of snot and sticky tears as well.  
  
I would have laughed loudly and quite obnoxiously at the insipid picture they made, if only Potter wasn’t right there crying along with them. Instead, I only shake my head in bemusement and resume my somewhat stealthy retreat out of the room.  
  
As long as his tears are of happiness, I don’t mind.  
  
“Malfoy.”  
  
I shake my head at the silent question he’s directed at me and I try to reassure him with a quick smile. It’s their moment after all. I don’t know what I was thinking intruding upon it. It’s not like I particularly wanted to either.  
  
“You’re having a bit of a moment, Potter. I think it’s best I let you get on with it.”  
  
I soften my baiting with another grin; one that I could see changes the Weasel’s expression from enraged to puzzled. My lips twitch in amusement. I do so love confusing Gryffindors.  
  
“If you’re sure…”  
  
“Of course. As long as I get the rest. I can let you have this one.”  
  
“You’re such a sap, Malfoy.”  
  
“Probably an unhealthy side effect of prolonged exposure to Gryffindors, so I blame you.”  
  
His laughter follows me as I shut the door softly. The smile on my lips widens even more as I feel hope settle in my chest for the first time today.  
  
Maybe everything will be all right. Finally.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
My peaceful respite is disrupted by thunderous footsteps down the hall. I warily pick myself up from the chair where I was reading my book and walk out. Sure enough I see the Weasel taking long, angry strides towards me, his face a mask of obvious annoyance. I sigh. So much for a quiet afternoon. I should have known that the prat wouldn’t give over gracefully without some show of dramatics.  
  
“Do you love your father?” I ask him plainly, cutting him off before he can even formulate words that I know will only serve to enrage me. He is so very good at that, after all. Perhaps even better than Potter during our school years.  
  
“What kind of stupid question is that, Malfoy?” he roars, confusion mixing with the dislike in his expression. “Of course I do! Besides, you’re only changing the subject, that has nothing to do with-“  
  
“I love mine too, you see,” I continue evenly as if his squawking hadn’t interrupted me. “I love him so much I followed him everywhere. There was no place I wouldn’t go so as long as I was by his side. You probably feel the same towards yours.”  
  
“So? Did you honestly think I would feel sorry for you? Is that what this is? Pity the poor orphaned Slytherin and just accept you into our lives as if nothing’s ever happened?”  
  
“How about your turncoat brother, Weasley?” I tilt my head, still completely ignoring his indignant ramblings. “Do you still love him? Or is there room for hatred in your pure little Gryffindor heart for someone who’s turned their back on you and yours? Do you feel anger because he turned away? Because he wasn’t there when you needed him? Because he made you choose between your love for him and your love for the rest of your brood?”  
  
“You shut your mouth about Percy. That prick never deserved to be called a Weasley.”  
  
“Definitely anger, perhaps even hatred.” I nod thoughtfully and I have to fight down a smirk as I watch his face turn a particularly vivid shade of red. “Now imagine feeling both things, the love and the hate but for the same person. Which way would you choose?” I question him quietly. “Which emotion would you be ruled by?”  
  
His silence marks his confusion but I can see him slowly relax his fists. Perhaps there is hope for the Weasel King after all and he’s not as thick headed as he looks. Seeing that my mission in deterring his little macho display has succeeded, I nod to him and turn on my heel.  
  
“In case you’re still wondering, Weasley,” I call over my shoulder as I widen the space between us. “Love won.”  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
At first I think this crisis was averted but alas, Gryffindors are the tireless sort and soon enough this claim is tested as we almost collide in the hallway.  
  
The three of us freeze as we come across each other in the middle of the foyer. My eyes narrow as I hear the Weasel’s groan of frustration and grumblings about his bad luck with annoying ferrets. I sneer but just as I’m about to retaliate the Mudblood puts a conciliatory hand on Weasley’s arm. To my surprise, she steps closer to me.  
  
“Why are you doing this?” Her beady little eyes bore into mine, an unspoken challenge written in brown.   
  
“Do you honestly think there’s an explanation I can give you that you’d accept?” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Or even believe?”  
  
She blinks in confusion, probably disarmed by such straightforward honesty. “I-no, probably not.”  
  
“Then I think we’re done here,” I say coolly, and I begin to pass them, but a vicelike grip on my arm stops me midway.  
  
“Don’t think I’m falling for this ‘ _cool and collected_ ’ thing you’ve got going on, Malfoy,” the Weasel snarls. “I swear if you ever hurt him, I will personally hex your bollocks to the wall.”  
  
“And I promise you a painful and slow death if you do the same, Weasel,” I spit, my all too thin patience snapping in the onslaught of so much stupidity.  
  
“Me? I would never hurt Harry. He’s been my best friend since I was eleven. How dare you-“  
  
“I dare because I can.” I growl and I push his offending arm away with enough force to make him topple a few steps back. What is it about this idiot that pushes my buttons so much? “I dare because he matters, and if you’re truly his best friend, you won’t fuck it up again.”  
  
“Enough. Both of you. Stop it before Harry comes in and hears all this nonsense. Malfoy, where do you think you’re going?”  
  
I grit my teeth and keep my pace, deaf to the Mudblood’s shrill chastising. As if I was going to stand there and let her lecture me like an errant child. I don’t even let my own mother do that. Mother will be so scandalized when she hears. I bet she’ll-  
  
I blink away the sudden blurring of my vision as I stagger the rest of the way to the sitting room. No, no, no! I was doing so well today, too. Especially after the anxiety this morning. I can’t fall to pieces now. Not ever. I take deep measured breaths as I struggle to keep my head but it is useless. Already I can feel the memories crashing down on me, and the keening sense of loss that I’ve buried and ignored so well comes rushing back.   
  
And it feels like I’ve just lost them all over again.  
  
The horror is so fresh it makes bile rise up in my throat. The pain is so real it’s like a physical blow. The truth is so cruel it brings me to my knees every single time I allow myself to remember.  
  
But I can’t remember. Not fully. Never completely.  
  
For it hasn’t eased with the passing of the days, hasn’t been lessened by the offer of comforting words or awkward praise. Sometimes even the knowledge of what I’ve saved doesn’t soothe the hurt.  
  
Losing them hasn’t become any easier.  
  
But I can’t forget either.  
  
This pain is the only thing I can trust that's mine, because they’re gone and it's the one thing I have left. Who will take care of her garden now or look after his prized white peacocks? Who will restock my monthly stash of sweets or balance the budget for the Malfoy estates?  
  
Who will remember that dandelions were her real favourite flower or miss the brilliance of her smiles?  
  
Who will remember that he secretly championed the Chuddley Cannons or miss the sure strength of his stance?  
  
I can’t forget.  
  
I can’t stop loving them either.  
  
I don’t know how to and I don’t ever want to learn.  
  
A hitched sob makes it past my lips and I can no sooner stop the deluge of tears than I can halt the shining of the sun. The tears are bitter and that is all. It’s not cleansing or an exercise of relief. It’s not met with a resurgence of strength or the hot sting of resentment.  
  
There is only pain…and sorrow… and love.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
I blink slowly as awareness floods my senses, my eyelids feeling as if they weigh a ton when I struggle to move them. The stale taste of Firewhisky is familiar on my tongue and I wish I could be surprised, but I am not. More and more I’ve fallen back on this vice and I know Potter has noticed. He’s not stupid and already I can see the concerned furrow that appears on his forehead every time he suspects I’ve been at it again.   
  
The thought of him is enough to jolt me into action or at least make me try again to get up from the cold hardwood floor. He’s much too worried about me as it is. What more would he think if he found me here, lying in a barely conscious heap, a bottle of Firewhiskey in one hand and-  
  
I nearly squeak when an arm around my waist pulls me closer and I shiver as I feel stubble graze the back of my neck. I also come to the startled realization that the soft pillow I thought I was resting on is actually Potter’s upper arm.  
  
“Alright there, Malfoy?”  
  
His voice is still heavy with sleep but I can feel him waiting for an answer. Too stunned for words, I merely nod and that seems to satisfy him. I feel the gentle press of a kiss on my nape as his arm loosens slightly around me. Soon enough his breaths lengthen and he’s asleep once more.  
  


  
Fanart by [](http://reira-21.livejournal.com/profile)[ **reira_21**](http://reira-21.livejournal.com/)  
  
Still reeling from surprise, I carefully turn in his arms. His face is open and relaxed even though his head is bent at an uncomfortable angle and I’m certain that at least his right arm is completely numb. He’s also still completely dressed. The man didn’t even bother taking off his shoes. I snicker quietly as I shake my head in exasperation. Did the daft bugger just walk in, see me passed out like a drunken tosser on the floor, and decide to cuddle me?  
  
I guess I expected a rude awakening, followed by a lecture on the evils of alcohol, and to be immediately chased for a promise to never do it again.  
  
I never thought I’d be faced with this.  
  
Someone who would look at my disheveled form with concern and not pity, who would drop himself down onto the floor to my level when I didn’t have the strength to meet him at his.  
  
Someone who would wrap his arms around me and let me have my peace no matter where I procured it from.  
  
A smile tugs my lips as I fall back to sleep.  
  
For once, the pain is easier to ignore.   
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
  
“Potter, about last night-“  
  
“Yes, that was highly uncomfortable. I vote NO for sleeping on floors in the future.”  
  
“It’s not like I made you sleep there. You could’ve fucking well slept in our bed.”  
  
“But you weren’t there and I was worried about you.”  
  
“Alright, here it comes. I knew it was too good to be true. Well, then? Let’s hear it.”  
  
“Hear what?”  
  
“The recriminations, the finger pointing, the whole you-shouldn’t-drink-too-much-it’s-bad-for-you speech. Have at it then.”  
  
“Er- do you need to hear that?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I said, do you need to hear that from me? Because if you do, I’ll say it. Hell, I’ll even manage to muster up some convincing hysterics and perhaps copy some of your poncy hand gestures.”  
  
“There is nothing poncy about my hand gestures. Except perhaps when I’m wanking you off, so I’ll thank you not to make fun of them unless you want your prick to be lonely in the near future. And you’re changing the subject.”  
  
“What? You’re the one talking about pricks and wanking. Actually, is that an offer?”  
  
“Ugh! You are so infuriating, Potter. Is sex all you think about? Just yell at me and get it over with.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“What do you mean why? Honestly, most days you make no sense.”  
  
“Well, you’re certainly not easy to understand right now either. Why would I want to yell at you?”  
  
“Do I really need to spell it out for you? Obviously because I was idiot enough to drink myself into a stupor in the middle of the bloody afternoon. Ugh! Great, Potter. Now you have me lecturing myself. Your evil plan has worked. Are you sure you’re not biding your time to be the next Dark Lord?”  
  
“Malfoy, shut up a minute, will you? Come on, don’t glare at me like that. You do know you have a right to be sad?”  
  
“What has that got to do with-“  
  
“You can cry. You can scream and hit things and hex shit if you want. You can get drunk at four o’clock in the afternoon just as easily as you would if it was ten on a busy club night.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“I’ll still be here.”  
  
“...”  
  
“None of that would make me not want to be. Nothing would.”  
  
“That’s right. I forgot you’re too stupid to leave me.”  
  
“Or too lazy.”  
  
“Why you cheeky bastard! Come back here!”  
  
“Have to catch me first!”  
  
“Ha! Happily!”  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
The days following shortly after are as hellish as I predicted. Reporters of every sort are camped outside the neighborhood and watching them skulk about the area day in and day out is making me nervous. It’s precisely why I’ve taken to strengthening the wards daily. Potter has twice more called me out on my paranoia, since Grimmauld Place is still heavily under Fidelius, but I don’t dare lower my guard. I’ve learned never to trust them especially when it takes virtually nothing to manipulate them into anyone’s favor. After all, it was easy enough to spread those childish lies back in fourth year.  
  
But Potter insists that our story make the papers. The naïve idiot thinks that my involvement shouldn’t be swept underneath the rug and that I should be treated as a hero complete with an Order of Merlin, First Class, right along with him. This, of course, proceeds to escalate into a series of screaming rows between us. He unrepentant in his desire to see me get what I deserved, and I resisting everything, knowing that I truly don’t deserve anything at all. This argument is only heightened by the fact that none of his other Gryffindor sycophants will even talk to him anymore. Apparently Potter's ex is nasty enough to let slip about our relationship to his friends and now none of them are willing to grow a pair and confront him about it.   
  
House of bravery, my arse.  
  
Potter, of course, is unwilling to admit that there is more behind this than my current status as a classified Death Eater. Not a word about his enforced isolation from his mates. Not a single mention of why he never leaves the house. A part of me is happy about this. After all who could stand to be depressed with the copious amounts of make up sex we've had recently? It’s also an added bonus that he is now experiencing what I'm faced with everyday. Days of isolation from friends and family, and I am more than tempted on most days to let it continue on like this. Just us in this old house. Safe and sheltered from the world.   
  
But then I remember the depression that would catch me unawares sometimes whenever I thought of Pansy or Gregory and Vince. Of the bitterness in my mouth when I have afternoon tea with my mother's portrait. A taste so strong that some days not even Potter's drugging kisses can erase it.  
  
How can I want that for him when I so desperately hate it myself?  
  
But I'm tired and more often than not these screaming rows are followed by me storming out of the house vowing to never return, all the while tasting the lie even as I swear it.   
  
My magic always lands me here.  
  
“I’m an idiot.” A soft voice disrupts the stillness of the crypt and it causes me to start slightly.  
  
“That’s not new.” Although  _this_  is, he’s never followed me before. But I keep my back to him as I continue to stare unseeingly at the tombs before me. His lack of understanding still stings and I feel helpless against it. The fact that he will never realize just how much I’ve lost, nor accept what I’ve done, is creating a gap that I don’t know how to cross. It seems like I am bound to lose him no matter what I do.  
  
“That’s true but I promised myself I wouldn’t do this anymore.” He sighs loudly. “Can you please just look at me?”  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“Why not?” The words are filled with hurt and I would’ve done anything I could to ease it if only I wasn’t crippled by the same feeling.  
  
“Because I don’t know what else to say in order for you to understand. I don’t know what else you could do to change my mind either.” I draw my knees up and hug them to my chest. My voice comes out small and wan. I have no energy left to care. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”  
  
“Look, I-I finally get it, all right?” He sighs and reaches out to press gentle fingers down my back. I shiver slightly at the familiar caress. “I’m an idiot because only a twit would be blind enough not to see how much this—how much I’ve been hurting you by insisting on all this press. Because if there is anyone that should know what you’re going through, it’s me.” He rests his chin at the top of my head and I feel his arms wrap around me.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he says.  
  
I sigh as I relax into his embrace. “Do you mean that? You’ll stop insisting on the Order of Merlin? The press? The interviews?”  
  
“Yes.” He says it simply. It’s filled with the same quiet conviction that has always characterized him in the past and I can’t stop my eyes from filling.  
  
“I-I am not a hero, Potter,” I whisper hoarsely, the words getting stuck in my throat. It is the closest I’ve ever come to admitting the truth, to letting him see who I really am underneath it all. The admission already costs me too much and I turn my head away, unwilling to see the disappointment in his eyes.  
  
“I know,” he whispers back, and for a second I think I forget how to breathe. He takes the opportunity to press an open kiss on my lips. “Good thing, I’m not one either.”  
  
We sit in silence for the remainder of the afternoon, surrounded by each other’s warmth and for the first time I think I’m beginning to understand him almost as much as I love him.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
The Wizarding world is once again in an uproar. Now that Potter and I have come to an agreement, our silence has driven the media into a near frenzy. No one knows why their boy hero refuses to speak to the people he just saved. Not a soul has any idea why their Chosen One has chosen to be with a Death Eater. Owls circled above the area for days until I snap and send out a blanket Confundus charm on the stupid things.  
  
I tear my eyes away from the window and force myself to finish dressing. Potter will be in here any minute and as much I’ve dreaded going to the Burrow, I’d rather face the inevitable now than later. Besides, I was the one who pushed him into talking to his friends. Really, I've only myself to blame. I grimace and I’m about to practice smiling politely in front of the mirror once again when Potter comes storming in.  
  
“Well, hello to you, too,” I murmur as I watch him barrel past.  
  
“Wha?” He looks up, his scowl melting a little when he sees me. “Hey, sorry. I was just distracted.”  
  
“I gathered.” I smile lightly as I pull him closer to me, appreciating the way his eyes widen when he gets a good look at my clothes. “You like?” I whisper teasingly.  
  
“Very much.” He nods fervently, taking in the sinful way my formal robes hugged my body and the intricate designs lining it. “You clean up well, Draco Malfoy,” he tells me before he catches my lips in a kiss that leaves my senses reeling.  
  
“Apparently.” I blink up at him in a daze. “Now, come on. I know we’re only to going to see your lot of Gryffindors but I imagine even they don’t appreciate tardiness.”  
  
“We’re not going.” He pulls away and makes for the door.  
  
“What? What do you mean we’re not going?” I call out as I try to match his hurried stride.  
  
“Exactly what you think it means,” he says gruffly, still refusing to face me.  
  
“But you’ve been looking forward to this for weeks!” I grasp his forearm.  
  
“I’ve changed my mind,” he snaps. “I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I?” Then at seeing my expression, he sighs deeply and runs a tired hand through his hair. “Look, just leave it, all right? I’m sure you want an explanation and you deserve one but I just can’t right now.”  
  
“I can stay behind,” I offer quietly. I don’t particularly want to, especially now that I’m certain that the hurt written all across Potter’s face was authored no doubt by that den of Gryffindors or at least one of them. But if it made it easier for him, then I would. As nauseatingly Hufflepuff as that sounds.  
  
“Then what’s the point of going?” He shakes his head. “It’ll be fine. Ron will- they’ll come around eventually.”  
  
“Weasel.” I narrow my eyes at the slip but before I can pick out exactly which hex I am going use on the bastard’s ginger bits, Potter is already trying to dissuade me.  
  
“Leave it, Malfoy.” His words are edged with warning but his face softens as he tugs me closer to him. “It’ll be all right. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
I nod because that’s what he wants to see. And I am thankful that the only thing he wants from me is to cease my worrying and not a promise for inaction.   
  
My eyes narrow even as I seek to comfort him.  
  
I did warn the Weasel.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
As soon as my feet touches the hearth, my wand is already out, casting a strong shield charm. I know I’ve just barged into a den of lions but I am too enraged to care. I told Weasley what would happen if he ever hurt him and what does the git do?  
  
Ignoring the alarmed shouts and the hexes thrown my way, I spot my prey and lunge at him. It doesn’t matter that I am in a house full of Weasleys, all with their wands trained on the Death Eater in their midst. All I care about is making this son of a bitch pay.  
  
I snarl as I pin his larger frame to the wall, my forearm jammed against his windpipe and my wand pointed against his temple. “I told you what would happen if you ever hurt him, yes?”  
  
“Get off me, Ferret.” Weasley struggles against my solid grip. “You must be mad if you think you can barge into my house and not be hexed within an inch of your stupid pointy life.”  
  
“And you must have a death wish if you think you can hurt Potter and get away with it,” I growl, pinning him even harder to the wall.  
  
“Did you or did you not ask him to refrain from coming to your house tonight?” I ask him blankly, ignoring the indignant shrieks of “Ron!” coming from various ginger heads in the room.  
  
“So what? It’s my bloody house! I can invite or uninvite anyone I want. And besides, I only meant you.” He sneers and for a moment I am too blinded by rage to speak. “He’s welcome anytime he wants.”  
  
“Ah, so you do consider his wants sometimes.” I arch an eyebrow. “And if what he wants is to be here and have me beside him as well? If he wants to have everyone he loves under the same roof?”  
  
“He doesn’t love you.” He makes to lunge at me but I am still currently in possession of his throat so his move is a very, very stupid one.  
  
“He does.” Not wanting to mince words, I state it plainly. “You wouldn’t be in a lather if it wasn’t for that fact. He told you this himself and you told him you were all right with it.”  
  
“Well, obviously I lied,” Weasley snaps as he levels a hate filled gaze at me. “It’s you, for fuck’s sake! It’s you and him and it makes no bloody sense.”  
  
“Does it have to?” I shake him a little at that, so thoroughly frustrated by his idiocy. “We both know it’s illogical and this side of insane. He’s not asking you to understand but he does need you to accept him.” I glare at him defiantly, daring him to object. “All of him, even with this.  
  
“Even with me.”  
  
“I don’t trust you, Malfoy,” he spat. “And I like you even less.”  
  
“But you love Potter, yes? Being his best mate, his family and all that, I thought that was true.”  
  
“It is,” he growls.  
  
“Then bloody well prove it!” I push against him one more time before I take a step back. “You have one more chance to be the best friend he deserves, Weasley,” I whisper softly. “Just one.  
  
“After that I’m going to fulfill all your sordid expectations of me and do my damndest to make sure you never see him again.”  
  
He grabs for me again, but he moves so predictably that I’ve already moved aside halfway through his attempt. “You bastard! How dare you! Coming in here and making these threats-“  
  
“I told you I dare because he matters.” I keep my wand steady. “Because you’re pushing him to make a choice he doesn’t need to make.”  
  
The silence around us is strained and heavy. The numerous sets of eyes boring at the back of my neck make me anxious, but I never waver. I breathe deeply and a beat later I thrust out my hand so forcefully I nearly overbalance myself.  
  
“Shall I see everyone for dinner tonight then, Weasley? I do think we said eight o’clock, right?”  
  
Minutes tick by and I’m almost certain he won’t take the opportunity that I’ve virtually served up on a silver platter and I’ll be forced to eviscerate him in front of his parents, God, and their surprisingly tasteful couch. However to my infinite shock, a ham-hocked fist closes over mine and he nods grimly, his eyes on anything but mine.  
  
“Th-that’d be fine, Malfoy.”  
  
Sounds of relieved sighs and exhaled breaths fill the room as I nod to him in return. Knowing I’ve already worn out my welcome the second I stepped into this house, I hastily make my exit, barely stopping to give the Weasel’s mum an apologetic smile. When I get a small but exasperated grin in return, it reminds so much of the look my own mother used to give me when I did something foolish that my heart catches in my chest.  
  
As the Floo powder swirls around me, I make a vow to behave tonight. No mother should ever have to suffer due to her son's idiocy. At least not if I can help it.   
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
I would like to say that the rest of the evening went swimmingly but how can I when I willingly and forcefully saddled myself with a houseful of Gryffindors? Pained silences and guarded words were the first to puncture the already strained night. Various faces that I've seen throughout the years but mostly from behind a white mask and against the shower of hexes. Finnigan was there beside Thomas and I spare them a moment to wonder idly if they ever did find out I was the one who had tortured them years ago when they'd foolishly let themselves get captured. Both Patils, Brown, and Granger are all present as well. In short, every Gryffindor who had lived long enough to be in the Final Battle. Well, except Longbottom. Rumor has it that a Death Eater had cursed him before he made it that far. But even if that Death Eater hadn't caught him, he still would've probably ended up hexing himself before the Order had reached the Manor. All of them are steadfastly ignoring me, of course, but one look at Potter's smiling face and his suspiciously shiny eyes is enough incentive to curb my tongue.   
  
Apparently it is not enough for the Weaselette.  
  
"Are you going to start with your threats now or will you work up to them slowly like your dear big brother?" I ask her snidely, not even bothering to turn my head.  
  
"Which one?"   
  
I shrug as she moves into my line of vision. "Does it matter?"  
  
"You're never going to like us, are you?" She narrows her eyes, the accusation in them making them burn with anger and the picture she makes is of such hypocrisy I nearly give into the temptation to laugh madly.  
  
"I can ask you the same question and get the same answer," I tell her snidely. "But for Potter -" I turn to look at his laughing silhouette. "I'll pretend." I shrug once more. "At least until I don't have to anymore."  
  
"And if you have to put up with us forever?" She shoots back. "Because this is what this is, you know. Family lasts forever."  
  
"So does love." I smirk as I step closer to whisper in her ear. "And I'm a very good actor."  
  
"You don't deserve him, Malfoy," she hisses, her features contorting with anger and bitter hurt.  
  
"And who does?" I raise an eyebrow. "You?"  
  
"He deserves someone that his friends and family approves of." Her face flushes darkly. "And yes! I'm definitely a better choice for him than you are. After all, I made him happy once. I can do it again."  
  
There is a certain smugness in her voice that I can swear is a genetic trait, after all, I heard it often enough in her brother. Right now though it is almost makes me break my vow to behave. Instead, I take a long sip from the glass of wine in my hand in a futile attempt to contain my temper.   
  
"You can try but it would be hopeless." I shrug, a nonchalant gesture that I don't feel. My body is taut with tension and the possessive anger raging through me makes my voice drop to a deadly whisper. "You see, I know something you don't know." I circle her slowly until I'm behind her, both of our eyes trained on Potter who is still deeply immersed in his conversation with Longbottom and Thomas.  
  
"Like say, the taste of his sweat just after he's come, or the look on his face when he's writhing in pleasure."   
  
"It's just sex," she insists a little shakily, a furious blush making her look like a giant tomato. "That's all he wants from you."  
  
"Well, I am flattered by your confidence in my sexual prowess." I smile wickedly, "but it seems there is still one thing you don't know.  
  
"The feel of his arms around me when he holds me at night and the fact that he doesn't let go." I watch in cruel satisfaction as her breath hitches at this and I viciously twist a little harder.  
  
"Hasn't he let  _you_  go?"  
  
I leave before she can formulate an answer and before the lone tear skimming down the side of her face reaches the floor. However, as I turn I feel daggers boring into the back of my head, I'm surprised to find Longbottom glaring at me furiously, an uncharacteristic look on his usually gentle face.  
  
I hurriedly move towards the kitchens then, confused and more than a little disturbed by the hatred in Longbottom's expression.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
The hours pass by with remarkable ease after that. Of course this could be attributed to the fourth glass of wine in my hand and the fact that I've retreated to a secluded corner far away from all of Potter's friends, especially Longbottom, who still looks like he had a Niffler up his arse, but I didn't want to dwell on it. The important thing is Potter is having fun, looking more relaxed than I've seen him in weeks. Our eyes meet across the room and hold until I belatedly realize that the goblet in my hand is in plain sight. I'm about to foolishly attempt to hide it behind my back before a shake of his head stops me. He smiles on indulgently and shrugs, understanding softening his face. His mouth curves to form the echoes of three words.  
  
 _I love you._  
  
A rush of tenderness makes my breath catch and I swallow thickly as I blink back the suspicious amount of moisture gathering in the corners of my eyes. I hadn’t thought I could love him any more than I already did.  
  
I was wrong.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
As soon as we Apparate to our bedroom, I maul him. There will be no slow seduction tonight. No soft brushing of lips or gentle lapping of the tongue. After a night of standing in the shadows and being ignored by all but one of the Weasleys, I need this. Need his hands gripping me firm and steady. Need his tongue quick and demanding.  
  
I need him to show me where I belong.   
  
I moan appreciatively when he seems to understand this without being told and he quickly makes short work of my clothes. I growl as I attack his trousers, only to be deterred by buttons. Snarling, I quickly grab my discarded wand and Vanish them.  
  
Saliva pools in my mouth as his erection bobs in front of me but before I can get on my knees and take it between my lips like I’m dying to, a hand twists in my hair and I’m shoved back to the edge of our bed.  
  
“You will not be touching that. Fuck, you’re not even going to so much as look at it right now, Malfoy.”   
  
He pushes me further down as he captures my lips in a dizzying kiss. “Or else I will explode and I’ve only just begun what I want to do to you.”  
  
I squawk in indignation and before I can do more, Potter has taken a solid grip on my ankle and he uses it to flip me on my front.  
  
“Potter, I-“  
  
His weight on my back silences me as I moan gratefully. He grinds himself against me and I whimper at the delicious feel of our bodies sliding together. His cock is slipping wetly between my arse cheeks and I spread my thighs wantonly, my furled hole clenching at that thought of being filled again.  
  
“Do you feel that?” His voice is thick and his breaths are ragged against my ear. He bites an earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, managing to make my eyes roll back in the process.   
  
“That’s what you do to me.” He leaves a trail of kisses down the side of my neck. “It’s what you do to me all the time.”  
  
“Oh god,” I whimper as he begins to thrust against me, his cock grazing my hole but never penetrating it. “P-potter.”  
  
“Shh.” He pets my hair soothingly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” he promises earnestly and then proceeds to make a liar of himself when he pulls away. I’m about to turn over and haul him back to finish what he bloody well started when a kiss stops me.  
  
His kisses, of course, are always heart stopping but this one makes me halt for an entirely different reason. Mainly because of  _where_  Potter is kissing me.   
  
Potter is kissing my toes.   
  
And it isn’t the maddening sort of kiss either. Instead of an assault of suction and wet heat, there is only the most gentle of pressures from closed lips, done with a helpless sort of repetition that enforces the notion that he can’t help doing it.  
  
That there is nothing in the world he’d rather be doing than kissing my feet.  
  
His lips soon move to the other parts of my body. His butterfly kisses flutter over my skin. It only serves to ignite more heat between us. And as I lay there, hard and wanting, I also feel so very loved.  
  
When his lips reach the curve of my jaw, he turns me over and as soon as I catch sight of him, I pull him down for a claiming kiss. My tongue plunges into his mouth at the same time I grip his hips and grind my erection against his. A moan tears through his throat and I tighten my hold.  
  
“This is what you do to me.” My breaths come out in short hard pants. Never breaking from his gaze, I reach out for his hand and place it squarely over my wildly beating heart. “It’s what you do to me all the time.”  
  
I feel his body shudder against mine and suddenly I’m being devoured. His hands are everywhere - my chest, my hips, my hair, my arse - and his lips claim me over and over again. He sucks on my tongue as if it were fine wine and he nibbles on my bottom lip until it’s tender. He is no longer gentle, no longer patient and he moves with a passion that borders on violence.  
  
I surrender gladly against this sensual assault. For every suck and every bite, I am right there with him responding in kind. Giving myself completely to feelings only he has ever invoked.   
  
“I-I can’t wait.” He groans as he grips my thighs hard enough to bruise.  
  
“Then don’t.” I push my hips up, right against his groin, delighting in the tortured sound he makes.  
  
“Bastard,” he snarls as he snatches up his wand and summons the lube. He doesn’t get far however, because his eyes close blissfully as my hand reaches out and strokes his shaft.  
  
I smirk as I still my movements. “Always.”  
  
He growls at that and he does two thing things simultaneously. He quickly slides down my body and without wasting another second, pushes a lubed finger in me right as he sucks down the head of my leaking cock. My body arches as the sensation rushes through me and already I’m begging for more. More suction, more fingers- anything and everything he is willing to give me.  
  
A second finger joins the first and still it isn’t enough. The delicious burn of being stretched doesn’t abate the ache of being filled and claimed. I thrust back wantonly, loving the pressure of his fingers in me and the feel of his throat muscles clenching around my shaft.   
  
I literally come off the bed and scream when his fingers find that sensitive spot in my body. I clutch at the bed sheets uselessly even as my toes spasm erratically. I’m lost in the tide of emotions and I’ve completely given up control.   
  
I feel completely and utterly owned.  
  
Sensing my surrender, he gives my prick one last firm suck before he pulls my body closer to him. With one smooth thrust, he pushes relentlessly inside me, not stopping until he is buried to the hilt. I try not to hiss in pain but a tiny wince escapes me. It’s enough to give him pause and I’m both gladdened and frustrated at his action.   
  
I angle my hips a bit more and this time, the wince is his as I take him deeper within me. I smirk at his pained expression but my smugness doesn’t last long. He grips my thighs firmly as he pulls almost all the way out only to slam right back in.   
  
He doesn’t stop. It seems like now that he finally has his cock in me, he can’t get enough of it. He thrusts into me like a rutting animal and it takes all my strength to meet each and every stroke. I whimper at every drag of his cockhead against my prostate, and already I can feel the pressure building inside me.   
  
It never takes long. Not with him. Not when I can smell his scent all around me, making me dizzy with want. Not when I can feel every inch of his lust as he plunges into me again and again.  
  
It only takes a single touch, his hand brushing up against my stiff cock and my climax is ripped from me. My body bucks hard and I scream as my release pulses between us.  
  
Potter, the relentless bastard, doesn’t stop fucking me. Even as I’m writhing and clenching on the end of his prick. His thrusts are erratic but he never slows as he pinpoints my prostrate unerringly each time to prolong my orgasm.  
  
Gods, how I love him.  
  
Now that I’m sated and relaxed, he picks up the pace in search of his own release. He molds my body to fit his needs and he plunges into my sensitive hole ruthlessly. His eyes burn with lust and his pupils dilate as he slowly loses himself to passion.  
  
This is the moment I love the most. The one I would kill and fight for just to see a glimpse of. I clench my hole tighter around him and I smile at his moan of appreciation. I raise an unsteady hand and place it gently on his cheek. My heart stutters slightly in my chest as I marvel at my ability to make him feel this way.   
  
He cries out in ecstasy as he slams his hips into me one last time. I groan softly when I feel his body shudder as I’m filled with his release. He laughs weakly as I clamp down on him again, trying to forestall his withdrawal from my body.  
  
“Slut,” he murmurs against my lips, his breath mingling with mine.  
  
“For you?” I steal a kiss from his mouth and pull him down again until he is positioned beneath me.   
  
“Always.”

A loud banging snatches me from satiated slumber and I grumble as I shift begrudgingly in my bed. Potter is already awake and putting on his pajama bottoms. He smiles when he sees me and presses a quick kiss on my mussed hair, bidding me to go back to sleep.  
  
However, just as I've finally managed to succumb to sleep once more, an even louder barrage of yelling reaches my ears. Alarmed and more than a little worried, I quickly spell my clothes on and Apparate downstairs.  
  
"Potter, what is-"  
  
A wand on my throat stops me from completing my question.   
  
"Stop that! What are you doing?" Potter rushes forward and places himself between the impertinent fool in Auror robes and me.   
  
"We've already told you, Mr. Potter." The wanker keeps his wand trained on me. "I have an arrest warrant for one Draco Lucius Malfoy. He is charged with crimes against humanity and suspicion of being a Death Eater. Furthermore, he is also charged with the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore. Please step aside."  
  
"This is ridiculous!" Potter snarls, baring his teeth and an alarming surge of power sweeps through the room. "He was a child when all that happened! He would've never gone through with killing Dumbledore. There was a war on and-"  
  
"Nevertheless, our purpose here is clear." The Auror straightens his posture and looks ready to fight. "Please step aside and let us do our job. You may testify on his behalf in his trial but for now Mr. Malfoy needs to come with us."  
  
Potter grits his teeth, fury lining his whole body. "If you think that I fought and bled and killed all these years just for you to take the man I love away-" He closes his eyes, struggling to keep his temper and when he opens them again they are blazing with rage. "You are very, very wrong."  
  
My heart shudders in my chest at the sight of his anger. I've never seen him in such a state and that's saying something considering our history. A part of me is thrilled beyond reason at his easy and brazen line of defence. But the part that knows there could be nothing that would come out of this but a shared prison cell requires me to stop him.  
  
I imprisoned him once. I will not do so again.  
  
"Potter, stop it," I tell him firmly as I put a restraining hand on his arm. "And for goodness sakes, stop messing with the lights!"  
  
He doesn't move. He doesn't even seem to hear me and I roll my eyes in exasperation. I would've given him an earful right then and there if only the situation wasn't so dire. However, I've been in worse situations than this, after all, fooling the Dark Lord was no easy task. I am sure that whatever these Aurors can dish out, I can take.  
  
I cup his jaw gently and bring my forehead to rest against his. "You need to stop, Potter," I whisper, willing for his ragged breaths to slow and the heat in his eyes to simmer down. "You're scaring me."  
  
The admission is a lie but I've never fought fairly, I'm not about to start now. I quell the rush of joy that goes through me when I feel some of the tension leave his shoulders.  
  
"I can't let them take you." His voice is rough and still sounding like he was at the edge of violence.  
  
"The war is over, Potter," I remind him gently and just when I'm about to rake my fingers through his hair to soothe him a little bit more, a small movement from his left brings my attention back to the Aurors in the room.  
  
"If you wish to make this arrest a peaceful one, you will allow me to say goodbye to him," I warn them firmly. "There is much here that you don't understand."  
  
Thankfully, the Aurors seem to be swayed by my logic and they pull back a little. However, my warning has served only to anger Potter all over again.   
  
"I will not be saying goodbye to you, Malfoy," he snarls, his hands clamping down on my arms so hard it hurts. "If you think I'm going to stand here and just let them take you away from me like some criminal then you’re as barmy as your Uncle Max!"  
  
I smile shakily. Merlin, but his protective anger feels good. It comforts the part of me that’s still insecure about my place in his life. "Like I said, Potter, the war is over." I bring a finger to his lips. "Go to the Ministry. Hire the best defense law wizard. Build a solid case. You can do all these if you really feel like playing the hero again." My finger traces the curve of his lips, trying to memorize the feel of it.  
  
"The only thing I can't let you do is be in the same cell with me."  
  
His eyes flash once and suddenly I find myself enveloped in the tightest and most possessive hug I've ever known. His voice is low beneath my ear but it's steady even if it's filled with pain.  
  
"If they touch you, I will kill them."  
  
I only shrug carelessly as much as his hold will allow me, ignoring the ridiculous quickening of my heart.   
  
"If there's anything left of them for you."  
  
He kisses me then. His lips slide urgently against mine and at the first taste of his tongue, I am lost. No longer caring that there are Aurors in the room who are about to take away my freedom. No longer thinking about the many varied ways this could end badly. He is the only one who could ever make me feel this reckless, this loved, this alive.  
  
I'll be damned if I have to spend the rest of my life without him.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
"Malfoy! Did they hurt you? Are you okay?"  
  
"Potter. Yes, I'm fine. Please desist with your caterwauling."  
  
"What did they do? I wasn't kidding about the no touching threat. You always sound like an old book when you're hiding something."  
  
"Now who's paranoid? I'm fine. I'll live but hopefully not here. Have you found anything out yet?"  
  
"No, but I will soon, I promise. You won't be here for long. Hermione is going over the case with Twittle."  
  
"Of Twittle & Tags? You really must want me back."  
  
"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I? I almost gave Kingsley a heart attack when I Apparated onto his desk earlier and demanded your release."  
  
"My hero."  
  
"Oh shut it, you big prat."  
  
"Why don't you shut it for me?"  
  
"Cocktease. You know I can't reach you. Not through these bars. Unless-"  
  
"Stop that! You’re not getting yourself arrested just to land yourself in here with me."  
  
"Why not? It would be like that time-"  
  
"Oh yes, how romantic. Let us relive your last stay at my home and how you were tortured nightly. You’re unbelievable, Potter."  
  
"So you’ve always told me. Look, you do know there's another way to get you out of here faster, right? If they knew you saved my life-"  
  
"By killing my father! No. We talked about this. We agreed."  
  
"Before you were arrested!"  
  
"You don't think I haven't thought about this? Do you honestly believe that it hasn't been on my mind ever since this morning? Of course that way would be quicker but I would rather not have my lovely tale of patricide printed in tonight's evening edition, thanks."  
  
"But, Malfoy-"  
  
"No, I will not be known for my father's murder. I mean, Merlin, Potter, think about it. It’s as though you killed a puppy and then your neighbours found out. You'd be forever known as a puppy killer and that's all you'd be remembered for. No one will think about how bad that puppy was or how ill it had become. They'd just look at you and think of how you killed your puppy."  
  
"Are you - Are you seriously comparing Lucius Malfoy to a puppy? And that I'll somehow agree with you because you used a metaphor regarding defenseless canines?"  
  
"I had to put it in words you could understand."  
  
"Ha ha, Malfoy, so very funny except it's  _not_. I will not let you sit here for a second longer when there is something that would dismiss these ridiculous charges in a heartbeat."  
  
"It’s a yellow Labrador with big, dumb, floppy ears.”  
  
“Draco Malfoy! You will not sway me using an argument with cute puppies! Unless you can think of another way, I will tell them about-“  
  
“Wait! Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Obviously your idiocy must be catching.”  
  
“Says the man using puppy metaphors.”  
  
“Oh shut it, you. Do you want to hear this or not?”  
  
“Of course, I do. I’ll do anything to save you.”  
  
“Always such a sappy hero. Honestly!”  
  
“You like it.”  
  
“You’ll never prove it. Now go do your heroing bit then. Go back to Hogwarts and fetch Snape.”  
  
“Snape? But what if he refuses?”  
  
“He won’t, Potter. Just trust me on this one.”  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
I look up from my staring contest with the wall when Snape glides in, an unmistakable scowl on his face.   
  
“Contrary to popular belief, I do sleep at night, Draco, and I do not appreciate my rest being disturbed by belligerent Gryffindors sent by imprisoned idiots. Especially when said Gryffindor almost starts a duel because of Ministry regulations about the number of visitors a detainee can have.”  
  
“Well, hello to you too, Snape.” I smirk slowly. There is no love lost between the two of us. This much is obvious.  
  
“Do wipe that ridiculous look off your face. You look like a smug cat.” Snape rolls his eyes. “Why am I here?”  
  
“I need your testimony to get out.” I walk closer to the bars that separate us. “You owe me that much.”  
  
“I owe you nothing, you impertinent boy!” He curls his lip. “My debts in this life have been paid a thousand times over. You’re a fool if you think there is something you can hold against me when I have so many over you.”  
  
“You vowed to keep my father safe,” I snarl, my fingers gripping the bars. “You failed. That requires a penalty.”  
  
“I had no idea the Dark Lord had located him that day.” He shakes his head. “He was there when-“  
  
“I have no need for your excuses.” I cut him off rudely with a dismissive wave of my hand. “Besides, all you have to do in this case is tell the truth. I thought that after more than twenty years of lying you would be glad for the opportunity.  
  
Snape’s eyes glitter with malice as his lips quirk into a thin smile. “And which truth shall I tell them? Which version should fall on Potter’s ears? “ He comes closer until he’s in front of me, taunting me with his nearness. Knowing I can’t reach out due to the spells around the cell.  
  
“Should I start with the one where you lowered the wards and helped the Order get in?” Snape twists his lips. “Or should I start the story before that? To the part where it was you, in fact, who was controlling Lucius and torturing-“  
  
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The Lumos charm in the room has begun to malfunction and the air around us shifts violently.   
  
Sweat drips from my brow as I concentrate enough of my magic on the wards and Snape watches with open incredulity as my hand breaches the purportedly unbreakable charms and grasps him by the front of his robes.  
  
“You of all people know what it means to take away the heart of a Slytherin. After all, most of your life was spent trying to get revenge for that crime. Know that if you do this there will be no force on earth that can stop me from finding you and you will spend the rest of your days in pain as I extract my revenge.”  
  
“It’s good to see you’re still a Malfoy,” he says evenly, his eyes guarded.  
  
“I have never stopped.” I tighten my hold.   
  
“Indeed.” He inclines his head. “It will be arranged, but do remember this is the last favor I shall do for you.”  
  
“It’s the only one you owe me.” I release him then and take a step back.  
  
He leaves me in a flurry of robes and the certainty of my freedom.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
And this- this is the part where I can clearly say that my foolishness was at an all time high. Again I was too drunk on love, too elated by the surety of success, to think about something as trivial as my safety.   
  
The Ministry had just proven to be no match for me. Voldemort was dead and gone. What else was there to fear?  
  
I learned the answer to this question the minute I stepped out of my Ministry cell. The pain of the curse hitting me from the side was indescribable. The torture that commenced at that point only worsened.   
  
Fate is truly the worst bitch.  
  
I groan as I pick myself up from the floor, hoping to Merlin that the bastard wouldn’t be coming back for another round of torture anytime soon. My body twitches convulsively and I struggle to hold myself up for longer than a few minutes. I blink back the sting of tears that come too easily these days. How long have I been here? How much time have I lost?  
  
I turn my head carefully to survey the newspaper clippings that decorate the walls. A gift from my captor. Another way for him to taunt me without even being in the same room.   
  
I force myself to have the strength to stand. A painful wince makes it past my lips when I fail to do even that. I take a deep breath and try again, this time on shaky elbows, crawling slowly to get nearer to the wall. A tremble goes through my body, but I am determined. Slowly my hand rises and I’m able to trace a wobbly finger against Potter’s scowling image. The picture is spelled to be immovable, another cruel touch, but I still feel ridiculously grateful that I can see him daily and the article in this clipping renews the bone-weary hope in my soul. I read it again for the millionth time, savoring each word even though I’ve already memorized it in my head.  
  
  


>   
> **The Search for Draco Malfoy**  
>  It has been weeks since the disappearance of Draco Malfoy, 18, but there are still no clues. Malfoy was cleared of all charges against him, including the one for the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore, by none other than Severus Snape, war hero and holder of the Order of Merlin First Class. He was, in fact, being released from the Ministry holding cells when the abduction occurred.
> 
> None of the prison guards can remember anything of substance and the Aurors have reached a dead end. Whoever took the Malfoy heir was thorough. Auror Chief, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who believes this might have been the work of rogue Death Eaters, has put together a special team. Joining the team is the Boy-Who-Lived himself, Harry Potter (see inset). If rumors are to be believed the Savior of the Wizarding World was actually young Malfoy's lover and has been distraught over his disappearance.
> 
> Dozens of posters bearing Malfoy's face have been placed prominently all over the countryside. There is also a standing offer of 1,000,000 Galleons to anyone who can provide the Auror office with substantial evidence as to the whereabouts of Mr. Malfoy.

  
  
“You really love him, don’t you?”   
  
A voice disrupts the quiet and shatters my concentration causing me to fall back painfully on my elbows. I wheeze as I manage to turn into a sitting position.   
  
“Isn’t that the reason I’m here?” I shoot back, the venom in my voice stunted by my ragged breaths. Points of light dance beneath my eyelids as I will the pain to ebb. My captor has never spoken to me before now. I have never seen his face.   
  
My vision swims into focus and I can only blink dazedly at the figure before me.   
  
“Longbottom?”  
  
It’s the same boy I saw just a few weeks ago. He’s still the same pudgy oaf but the look of hatred he wore that day is gone, replaced with a coldly calm stare.  
  
“You have to know that this is for the best,” he points out patiently, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to use the remainder of my strength to lunge at him.  
  
“Why the hell are you doing this? How is torturing me and keeping me prisoner for the best of anything?”   
  
“You weren’t supposed to fall in love with him and he wasn’t supposed to love you back. That’s not how it works, you see. I’m only doing the right thing.” Again his voice is filled with such irritating calm that makes me grit my teeth.  
  
“How the fuck is this the right thing? Aren’t you Gryffindors supposed to be noble? Shouldn’t you be saving us all from being captured and tortured?”  
  
“Yes! Now you’re beginning to understand.” He smiles and it’s as vapid as it ever was. “The Gryffindor is supposed to save the day. Save everyone from the evil Death Eaters, except I wasn’t there.” His face falls. “The Death Eater got to me first. He was a sneaky one that Nott. I can’t even remember the hex he used.”  
  
“I see. So you have a grudge against Nott because he clearly did something to addle your brains, and naturally since he is dead and I’m the most convenient Death Eater target you know, you plan to take out your revenge on me.”   
  
“No.” He shakes his head and once again the unnerving smile reappears. “You made Ginny cry.”  
  
If I had the strength I would’ve spluttered in indignation. Instead I settle for blinking at him. “What? This is the reason why you’ve taken me? Because I made your precious Weaselette cry? Just because you want to get into her knickers-“  
  
The curse hits me before I can breathe out the next syllable of my tirade. I should know better but honestly. All this grief for a bit of unrequited love?  
  
“I can’t let you talk about her like that,” he says coolly.   
  
“You should be happy that Potter’s with me! This way you actually have a shot with the Weasle-er-Ginny.” I try to reason with him but the glazed look in his eyes tells me I’m wasting my breath.  
  
“I thought you understood.” He shakes his head. “You don’t, at least, not yet.” He stands and I fight not to cringe at the sudden movement.  
  
“Harry has always been chosen even before he was born. Chosen by the prophecy, by You-Know-Who himself, and even by Ginny. I’ve accepted the fact that it was never going to be me. It was always meant to be him and I’m all right with that.” He pauses as he looks away.  
  
“But then you come along and choose him, too. What’s even worse is that he chooses you back. That’s not supposed to happen and it’s all your fault.” His eyes narrow and a bitter anger enters his voice. “You hurt Ginny.”  
  
“I still don’t get why our relationship-“  
  
“Ginny doesn’t smile anymore. All she does is sit around and be sad. But I’m going to change that. I’ll bring her smile back.” He nods insipidly, a grin splitting his stupid face.   
  
“By playing matchmaker and setting her up with Potter? Are you mad? I thought you wanted her for yourself! What kind of sick fuck would-“  
  
Pain. Blinding. The stone against my back does nothing to cushion the blow and merely heightens it.  
  
“I’ll save the day, Malfoy. You’ll see.” His voice is no longer calm, his breathing erratic. “I’ll make her smile. I don’t really care who she directs it at as long as I get to see it.”  
  
“You know what,” I wheeze out, my hands clutching my ribs in agony. “I stand corrected. You aren’t insane. You’re just pathetic.”  
  
The pain is back; far worse than it was previously but I don’t care for my anger rises to meet it.  
  
“You think you can torture and imprison people and still be called a hero?” I roar, adrenalin rushing fast and hot in my veins. “Do you honestly believe that by doing this you can make anyone happy other than yourself?”  
  
My body is convulsing but I barely notice, as I'm incensed by the sheer stupidity of my captor.  
  
“Anyone who can hurt someone and mean it is not a hero. No matter what you tell yourself,” I growl, my teeth clacking together painfully. “Believe me, I know.” I spit on him hatefully. “You’re no better than Nott. In fact, you’re worse. You're just like Bellatrix."  
  
I know it’s a mistake the second it leaves my mouth but I can’t help myself. The look of raw fury in his expression transforms his face into something truly ugly. But this is not the manner in which I am going to die. There is no way in Hades I will be taken down by a mad Neville Longbottom with a crush. No fucking way.  
  
If the thought of Voldemort or patricide couldn’t keep me from Potter, there is not a chance in hell that this will.  
  
There is a dull roaring in my ears and it seems like time stops. Longbottom stands there with his eyes glazed and his wand poised overhead, while I bare my teeth and rise on battered legs to meet him.   
  
Before we can collide, however, a thunderous blast shakes the floor and in the next beat, the dungeon door is blasted open. The force of the blow sends a large piece of wood hurtling out, hitting Longbottom squarely in the chest. Dust shrouds the room like smoke and I bring my dirtied sleeve to cover my mouth. I raise my reddened eyes to see a familiar sight standing in the doorway, one that features regularly in my dreams.  
  
It is Harry Potter looking once again like the veritable wrath of God.  
  
My knees buckle and immediately I feel arms around me, his touch so gentle it makes me weak.   
  
“Are you all right? Circe, it took forever to find you. I’m so sorry, Malfoy,” he blubbers on, the relief in his face so great it looks comical. A smile twitches my lips, my face a mirror of his own.   
  
My hand reaches out to caress his face, chasing away the furrows in his forehead and wiping away the traces of sorrow from his wet cheeks.   
  
“Say something,” he pleads, the lines on his face creasing once more as he tries to assess the damage done to me.   
  
“A-a villain’s door works just the same as a normal person’s, Potter,” I manage to reply, my voice still ridiculously shaky. “W-was that display really necessary?”  
  
He smiles back at me for a second, the expression so open and pure, but in the next minute his eyes shutter and I feel myself being wrenched close and rolled painfully away from a curse.  
  
“Stay here,” he whispers and before I can protest he’s already gone, my hand clutching uselessly at air.  
  
“Neville. Stop this! What’s wrong with you?” Potter roars, his voice lined with anger that makes his thin body quake.  
  
“What’s wrong with me?” Longbottom spits back incredulously. “You’re the one who didn’t do what you’re supposed to! You’re the one who broke the rules! You’re always breaking the rules, Harry!”  
  
“What?” Potter’s face is a picture of mixed emotions, all volatile and strong. “What the fuck are you on about?”  
  
“I can’t let you do it,” Longbottom babbles on, his eyes just as glassy but the grip on his wand is firm. “Just like First Year, it has to be me that stops you.” He raises his arm with a confidence I’ve never seen him possess.  
  
“And believe me, Harry, this time I will.”  
  
The curse flashes green and I can only stare in horror. My body is broken and the only thing I can manage is a ravaged cry. Scattered thoughts flit through my head, all focused on concocting a hundred different ways to knock Potter down to safety, never noticing the spell’s intended target.  
  
A blast of energy from my left sends me careening to my side just in time to miss the Killing Curse as it explodes on the spot I was previously in.  
  
I can’t see his face since Potter has his back to me but fear enters Longbottom’s expression for the first time so I can imagine it’s ferocious. Magic thrums wildly in the air and the tremors in Potter’s body become even more violent.  
  
“I trusted you, Neville.” It’s only a whisper but the pain in his voice amplifies the words. “I can’t let you hurt him.”  
  
Conjured ropes wrap themselves tightly around Longbottom’s thrashing form and Potter takes a measured step closer. The sheer force of his rage causes the walls to shake but the sorrow underneath the anger is tangible in the slump of his shoulders.  
  
It would be so easy to just let him to do it. One less dissenter from the lot, well, one less mad dissenter actually but I find that I can’t. I know how much this would cost him and he’s already paid enough for a thousand lifetimes.   
  
“Potter, if you wouldn’t mind postponing your histrionics to help me here that would be lovely,” I tell him sardonically as another tremble goes through my spine.  
  
Immediately I feel like a heel for causing the stricken look that crosses his face. But even before I can begin to berate myself for my thoughtless cruelty, I’m in his arms and the soothing balm of a Numbing charm washes over me. “Of course, I’m so sorry. Better?”  
  
I manage a tired smile. “Much.”  
  
“Now you-“ He starts again, his body already turning away from me to face Longbottom once again.   
  
“Never mind him, Potter. The Aurors will take him soon enough- hopefully to St. Mungo’s.” I pull on his sleeve weakly.  
  
He shakes his head, anger still burning brightly in his eyes. “He hurt you. He took you away from me and hurt you. I’ll never forgive him for that.”  
  
“And if you kill him, you’ll never forgive yourself,” I point out quietly, my gaze never wavering.  
  
He looks away. “I killed Voldemort.”  
  
“It’s not the same.” I shake my head as I fit my hand in his.  
  
“You don’t know that-“  
  
“Yes, Potter, actually I do.” I smile sadly, willing him to understand.  
  
I feel the anger slowly drain out of him and the tension from his shoulders lessen. His eyes turn pensive, no doubt looking inward and thinking about what I’ve just said. I roll my eyes when inevitably his expression goes from contemplative to guilty. Honestly! The man is so predictable. I hasten to distract him in the best way I know how.  
  
“Besides there’s already one ambiguously evil Slytherin in this relationship. Two would just be redundant.”  
  
“You have a point.” The grin he returns is small but I’m sure I can remedy it given a few more minutes.  
  
“I have a lot of those. In fact here comes one now.” I hold my hand out gingerly. “How about we get off the floor?”  
  
His smile widens as he reaches down and pulls me up. However, before I can hold onto my footing, vertigo suddenly overcomes me and I feel the room spin from underneath my feet. I hear Potter’s panicked voice call my name but oblivion’s pull is infinitely stronger.   
  
I have no choice but to succumb to it.  
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
_Will he be all right? Answer me! Oh God, please! Please tell me he’ll be okay.  
  
Mr. Potter, if you don’t relinquish your hold on him, we won’t be able to answer that question.  
  
Yeah, come on, mate. How about we go sit over here and let the nice Healers do their jobs.  
  
But Ron-  
  
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Harry it’s Malfoy. He’s the most irritating and stubborn person I’ve ever met. I doubt he’d let anything like this stop him.  
  
Yes, Harry. I think Ron is right. He’ll pull through this, you’ll see. He and Ron will be at each other’s throats in no time at all.  
  
I-I can’t lose him. I-I just can’t.  
  
We know, Harry. We know.  
_   
  


**o-O-o**

  
  
I wake slowly, disoriented and uncomfortable. Something is jabbing my thigh painfully and my arms feel like deadened weight. Panic and fear rushes through me as visions of my dungeon cell fill my head. I immediately open my eyes wincing at the flood of bright light and I scramble to push myself up before a slight movement stills my actions.  
  
The arms around me tighten and the foot that was poking me shifts into a more comfortable position. A warm palm cradles my head lazily and a familiar scent fills my senses.   
  
Potter.  
  
“Malfoy,” he mumbles sleepily, cuddling me closer to his chest.   
  
I suddenly remember Potter’s timely rescue and I smile softly at him. Our position couldn’t be anything but uncomfortable. Especially for him, lying on his back, supporting my weight as I unwittingly use him as some sort of body pillow. We’re obviously in one of St. Mungo’s infamous single beds, specifically designed to discourage any shenanigans during hospital visits.  
  
But Potter was obviously defying that like he defied everything else. All so he could be close to me.  
  
A sudden lump makes it difficult for me to swallow and I close my eyes as the familiar deluge of self-loathing fills me at the face of such tender regard. He deserves so much more than what I can offer. So much better than all of me.   
  
Despair makes me try to slip out of his grip but his hold is strong and without waking him, there is no way to get out of it. With guilt clawing at my chest, I’m about to try to cast a nonverbal spell when a loud snore stops me.  
  
I turn my head and I’m immediately met with an unexpected sight. Harry’s best friends are huddled together on the sofa, exhaustion lining their faces even in slumber. Granger has her head nestled in the crook of Weasley’s freckled neck.   
  
Why in the world are they in my hospital room?  
  
A snippet of a faded conversation flits through my head. I can only stare in incredulity. Could it be? Could it be that the two most important people in Potter’s life have finally come to accept me?  
  
It is an impossible thing to wish for but the tired slump of their bodies and their ragged appearance indicate it as truth. Gryffindors that they are, they probably joined the search as soon as Potter asked them to.   
  
In that I’m finally faced with what we three have in common. And I can no sooner deny their love for him than they can refute mine.   
  
Another press of his arms brings my attention back to his sleeping form.   
  
“I love you,” I whisper it softly as I trace his face with my fingertips. “And I’ll keep on loving you until I deserve you.” I swallow thickly as I move closer. “But that day will never come.” My eyes fill but that is all. The tears won’t fall because there is no need for them.  
  
“And that’s okay.”  
  
I smile as I lower my lips to steal a kiss from his. A sense of peace and an incredible amount of love settles in my chest as I find that it really is.  
  


_The end._


End file.
